Viscum album  Mistletoe
by killer cereal
Summary: Brittany and Mistletoe equals Christmas magic. Warning for swearing.


_As I am continually dissappointed by Glee and my favourite pairing, I appear to have developed a pathological need to fix it. Hope you like =D_

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**_Viscum album_**

All that Christmassy fluff was enough to make the toughest person want to vomit. Carol singing and scarves and fake snow and Christmas decorations. Bleurgh. It had been a tough few hours singing carols with the Glee club and all their mini life dramas and hormones raging as fiercely as the fake snow from Coach's snow cannons.

Santana stomped into the exclusive Cheerios locker room to pick up her kit bag before she left for home. Christmas was supposed to be fun. Fuck, life was supposed to be fun. At least it was when Brittany was around. Artie could kiss her skinny but finely honed ass, looking all merry and happy and stupid in his Santa hat with his hot blonde girlfriend draped all over him.

She grabbed her bag and walked through the lockers when an arm reached out behind the last row and hovered in front of her. Holding something. Over her head. A tall person, with a Cheerios sleeve, holding something. Over her head. Something green. The owner of the arm stepped out from behind the lockers and stood in front of her with a sultry smile.

Santana took a deep breath. "I've gotta go."

"I've got mistletoe."

"So I see. Where did you get it?"

"Puck gave it to me. I had to kiss him for it though. He told me you were in here."

"Oh great, did he now." Anger flashed across her face.

"I want a kiss."

"You have a boyfriend."

"It's mistletoe. It means I can kiss anyone I want," said Brittany smugly.

"B."

Brittany stepped closer and Santana took a step back.

"B," she swallowed nervously.

"What?" she smirked mischievously and took another step forward. "Don't you want to kiss me?"

Santana spluttered at that question and Brittany tilted her head to the side puzzled trying to work out what kind of an answer that had been. Santana involuntarily gulped and took another step back until her progress was halted by a wall of lockers. Holy crap. And she was still holding on to that mistletoe.

Brittany reached over with her free hand and grabbed Santana's Cheerio top at her throat and pinned her to the locker so she couldn't move. Santana stared wide eyed at her lips getting closer and closer.

"When are you ever going to tell me the truth?" asked Brittany, wistfully.

"The truth about what?" said Santana hoarsely, She looked up into those big blue eyes. Big mistake. If Brittany hadn't been holding her she'd most likely have collapsed from going weak at the knees.

"This."

Brittany kissed her.

If Santana hadn't heard angels singing before at the carol service she was now. Fucking ringing those bells in her ears accompanied by the brightest light in all fucking heaven. Happy fucking birthday Jesus Christ almighty.

Eventually Brittany released her lips and rested her forehead against Santana's. Breathing deeply, they both gasped for breath.

"Give me that mistletoe," demanded Santana. "You're dangerous with it." And I don't want you kissing anyone else with it, she didn't add aloud.

"You don't need mistletoe to kiss me," pouted Brittany.

"Dump Artie," blurted out Santana. She mentally kicked herself, curse you traitorous mouth.

Brittany merely looked surprised at the request. "Dump Puck," she replied calmly.

"I'm not with Puck," protested Santana.

"You know what I mean. No hooking up with him, or anyone."

Santana was still breathing deeply, her chest visibly pumping up and down as her god damn mouth opened again and betrayed her.

"OK," she whispered.

The look on Brittany's face was incredible. Disbelief, confusion, surprise and last but not least, hope. Shining hope.

Brittany walked slowly backwards to the door of the locker room without taking her eyes off Santana. She smiled beautifully at the flustered girl gripping on to the lockers as though her life depended on it.

"Happy Christmas," she said and disappeared out of the room.


End file.
